


If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Spreading Positivity 2020 [34]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Good Alpha Derek Hale, M/M, Mates, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Possessive Derek, Smart Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: Some days, when Derek got home like this, Stiles liked to tease him and remind him of the old days, back when Derek used to hate him.Derek always scowled at him and insisted Stiles hadn’t been his mate back then. Stiles just laughed about it, because it was crazy to think about how much things had changed. If he could go back in time and tell little sixteen year old Stiles that then-eighteen year old grumpy Derek Hale was in love with him and would choose him as his mate when Stiles was twenty, he was sure little Stiles would laugh hysterically in his face.And yet, here they were. Stiles was Derek’s mate. Which was awesome, except right now, when Stiles was trying to focus and Derek had moved behind him to nose at his neck.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Spreading Positivity 2020 [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667605
Comments: 19
Kudos: 1112





	If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like someone needs to turn off my internet. I literally did nothing but this today again. YouTube is far too entertaining and I am still sleep-deprived because I have shitty neighbours \o/

Stiles rubbed sleepily at one of his eyes beneath his glasses, finding that they hurt a lot from all the hours of staring at his computer screen. It couldn’t be helped though, he had a lot of papers to grade, and in the world of technology, papers were submitted online and thus killer on his eyes. 

He’d never imagined he would grow up to be one of those people who needed _glasses_ at the age of twenty-three, but well, such was life. Werewolves were real, monsters were real, the financial crisis America was in was real, and him needing glasses was real. 

He just hated them because they always slid down his nose. He didn’t so much mind the glasses part of the, well, _glasses_ , but they never stayed up. He hated having to constantly push them back up the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was a sign he tilted his head down too much. Maybe he should try and find a way to keep his chin up. 

“Are you done yet?” Derek asked, for what was probably the _millionth_ time in as many seconds. 

“You know,” Stiles said, adding a comment to one of the paragraphs he’d just read for his professor, “asking every second isn’t going to make me go any faster.” His fingers moved deftly over the keys before he hit enter to create the comment in the margin. It had been a pretty good paragraph structurally speaking, but the student had _completely_ missed the mark on what they were supposed to be writing. The entire paper, quite frankly, was garbage. The only good thing about it was the way it was written, so he’d have to give props to the student on _that_ front, at least. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, a low growl in his voice, like he was speaking from deep in his throat, “I was gone with the pack for _three days_. If I don’t get my hands on you soon, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” 

“I know,” Stiles said, feeling his heart rate increase at the words. He couldn’t help it, it was just such a hot and territorial _Werewolf_ thing to say, and he loved it. “And I told _you_ the second you walked through that door that I just had to finish these last few papers, and then I am all yours for _two_ entire days.” Stiles held up two fingers in Derek’s direction, eyes still skimming the words on the screen in front of him. “Two days, Derek. You can do whatever you want to me, I just need a few more minutes, and _no_ interruptions.” 

Derek let out a low, guttural growl, and resumed his pacing behind the couch. 

Stiles was _not_ trying to be cruel about this. He’d been busting his ass since the previous afternoon trying to get through all the papers his professor had shared on the drive. Being the TA for so many of his classes meant an astronomical amount of papers to read, but he’d literally done _so well_ since yesterday afternoon. His goal had been to finish them before the pack got back from their full moon trip in the woods, to the point where the only time he wasn’t reading the papers was when he’d slept. He’d cooked with the laptop in the kitchen, reading while making his food. He’d eaten while reading, and had spoken to one of his classmates on the phone while half-reading, hell he’d even gone to the _bathroom_ with the laptop. Just—everything he could do in order to get the papers read before Derek got home.

Because whenever Derek got home from an extended outing in the woods like this, it was like he was _itching_ to get his hands on Stiles. Like his scent had left Stiles’ skin in the time they’d been apart, or like his wolf was missing its mate. Stiles didn’t know, he just knew that the second Derek got home, he usually didn’t get any free time. 

The papers needed to be submitted to his professor before end of day Sunday, and since today was Friday, Stiles knew that Derek was going to keep him occupied until at _least_ Sunday evening. That wouldn’t give him time to finish, hence his mad scramble to complete everything before he’d walked through the door. 

The jerk was early, Stiles was expecting him home at seven, and he’d walked into the loft at quarter after five. So of _course_ , he wasn’t done yet. If Derek had come home at seven, as planned, he would have been. He only had six papers left—four now, given he’d cranked out two since Derek’s return, _despite his constant interruptions_ —so the extra hour and forty-five minutes would have been _more_ than enough. 

Instead, he had a Stiles-deprived Werewolf pacing anxiously behind him, eager to get his hands all over him. Some days, when Derek got home like this, Stiles liked to tease him and remind him of the old days, back when Derek used to hate him. 

Derek always scowled at him and insisted Stiles hadn’t been his mate back then. Stiles just laughed about it, because it was crazy to think about how much things had changed. If he could go back in time and tell little sixteen year old Stiles that then-eighteen year old grumpy Derek Hale was in love with him and would choose him as his mate when Stiles was twenty, he was sure little Stiles would laugh hysterically in his face.

And yet, here they were. Stiles was Derek’s mate. Which was awesome, except right now, when Stiles was trying to focus and Derek had moved behind him to nose at his neck. 

“You are _not_ helping this go faster,” Stiles insisted, shoving one hand into Derek’s face and pushing him back. “Can you revert back to the grumpy, looming Werewolf of my youth for like, twenty more minutes?” 

Derek let out an aggravated huff, then moved towards the door to the loft. “I’ll go grab some food or something.” 

“Yes, do that,” Stiles said absently. “Twenty minutes, tops!” 

“You’ve got until I get back, then I’m throwing your laptop out the window.” 

“I need it for school!” Stiles shouted after him as Derek shut the door, even though he was a Werewolf and didn’t need Stiles to shout. 

With the loft empty, Stiles knew his time was limited. Derek would definitely _not_ tolerate coming back to wait a second time, the fact that his human side was holding back his wolf side so well after an intense Werewolves-only full moon outing was _insane_. Stiles literally had until he got back. 

Finishing up with the garbage paper—sorry Sarah Buchanan, first year Arts major—he quickly moved to one of the remaining four he had. The only saving grace for him right now was that the papers were relatively short. He’d gotten through all the fourth years’ longer fifteen to twenty page papers, single-spaced, yesterday and that morning. The ones he was on now were for his professor’s first year course, which were only three to five pages single-spaced.

Honestly, the single-spacing was what was hurting his eyes the most, it was a lot to read on a tiny screen. 

Stiles read like his life depended on it—or, at least, his _laptop_ did—and managed to get through the next _far better_ paper in about five minutes. It had been well-written, and hit the topic right on the nose, so it had been an easy read. 

He forced himself not to glance at the time too much, knowing that it would only make him start panicking. It was best to just work and hope he finished in time. He did keep an ear out for the Camaro’s return though, and by the time he was on the last paper, he heard the distinct sound of it approaching and stopping at the base of the building. 

Stiles had two paragraphs left, and he _might_ have skimmed them—the paper was decent, the last two paragraphs weren’t going to make or break his opinion of it at this point. Finishing up, he quickly typed out the last note he had for that paper as he heard the door downstairs open. Derek was making extra noise, and bless him, he was trying to go relatively slowly despite the fact that Stiles knew he was resisting the urge to race up the stairs at rapid speed. 

Submitting his final note in the shared drive, Stiles let out a slow sigh and closed out of all his programs, shutting the lid of his laptop and setting it on the coffee table. Turning to the door, he waited for Derek to enter again. The loft door slid open a moment later, and Stiles could hear the crinkling of bags as Derek entered. 

When he moved further into the loft, he stopped in the open space between the living room and the kitchen, eyes locked on Stiles and flashing red, hands loaded with bags. Stiles felt like he’d bought much more food than necessary, but maybe he’d just been trying his best to stay away as long as possible. 

Perfect timing, all things considered. 

Derek stood perfectly still, nostrils flaring while he stared him down, hands tightening around the bags he held. Stiles could tell it was taking everything he had not to just drop them and leap at him. That would be a tragedy though, Stiles could see ice cream in one of those bags, and it would _suck_ if Derek forgot to put that in the freezer. 

He waited only a few more seconds to see if Derek would say anything—or _move_ —then smirked and lounged back slightly on the couch. 

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

Derek’s nostrils flared, his eyes went even redder, and he jerked his chin towards the stairs. “Bedroom. _Now_.”

“I love it when you get all bossy.” Stiles winked teasingly before getting to his feet, hearing Derek hurry into the kitchen with the bags as he headed for the stairs. 

_This_ was how he’d expected to greet Derek when he got home. All teasing and bratty. It hadn’t _exactly_ turned out that way the first go around, but at least the second had! 

He listened to Derek positively _destroy_ their kitchen while he unloaded everything. Stiles was sure Derek was only finding the items that needed to go in the fridge or freezer and would leave everything else on the counter. 

Stiles tugged his shirt up over his head, tossing it towards the hamper—and missing, but whatever—and was in the process of unbuttoning his pants when Derek was suddenly _right there_. His hands found Stiles’ face and he tugged him forward, kissing him hard, almost desperate. 

“Missed you,” Derek murmured against his lips, walking forward and forcing Stiles to keep pace, moving backwards. 

“You too,” Stiles admitted, legs hitting the edge of the bed. “Ready for some quality time?” 

“I was ready half an hour ago,” Derek said, biting at his neck before laving his tongue over the injury. 

“Yes, yes, my job is highly inconvenient. You gonna make me forget my own name, or what?” 

He felt Derek grin against his skin and then was pushed roughly onto the bed, bouncing once before settling and wiggling his hips enticingly. 

“Come show me how _much_ you missed me.” 

“You motherfucking tease,” Derek growled, but he crawled over him anyway, kissing him hard once more while Stiles’ arms moved to wrap around his neck. 

Oh yeah, Stiles was _definitely_ glad he’d finished grading those papers. There was no way Derek was going to let him out of this bed before Monday morning. 

He was okay with that. 

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis 
> 
> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).


End file.
